Chapter 5: Even If He Really Is Dead, So What?

Liu Qing stood frozen in place, glaring resentfully at Jiang Yue's departing figure before turning back to glance once more at the quiet corpse lying on the small bed in the morgue.

Suddenly, tears began to stream down her face.

"Brother Jiang, if you have any spirit up in heaven, let that woman surnamed Jiang be struck by a car the moment she steps outside! She should have come down to be with you."

Seeing Jiang Yue’s anguished expression, I longed to embrace her.

But as my body passed through hers, I realized—I was already dead. Now I existed only as a spirit.

I didn’t want to see Jiang Yue again, yet my spirit involuntarily followed her, as if bound to revolve around her.

When Jiang Yue left the police station, she almost got hit by a car.

She hurried back to her vehicle, started the engine, and pressed the accelerator fiercely.

At the same time, she dialed a number via Bluetooth.

“Ajun, how is uncle doing now?”

From the car’s Bluetooth came Cheng Jun’s muffled voice: “The doctor says he might have injured a bone, they’re heading for a CT scan.”

“How could something like this happen all of a sudden? Don’t worry, I’m on my way to the hospital now.”

Now I understood why she had been in such a rush to leave the police station—it was because Cheng Jun’s father was hurt.

Ha.

I was already lying in the morgue, neglected and ignored, even suspected of deceiving her.

A single phone call about the injury of her beloved’s father was enough for her to abandon me, her nominal husband, without hesitation.

Indeed, in her eyes, I was just a dog that didn’t bite.

A dead dog is a dead dog; naturally, her beloved’s father was far more important.

Seven years—it had been nothing but unrequited love.

I died, and no one shed a single tear for me, not even my own closest wife.

Thinking of all this now, my heart feels as if it’s bleeding.

Seven years—people form attachments even to pets over such a time, do they not?

As soon as she entered the hospital room, Jiang Yue rushed to the bedside.

“Uncle Cheng, is your leg alright? How did it get like this?”

Her distressed and pained demeanor was a stark contrast to the cold indifference she had shown when she saw my corpse in the morgue earlier.

I had hoped she might feel regret or sorrow when faced with my lifeless body.

But I was foolish. This woman simply had no heart.

No, she did have a heart—but it had never belonged to me.

***

Cheng Jun comforted her from the side: “It’s okay, Yueyue. Dad just twisted his ankle playing tennis this morning. It’s not a bone injury.”

Only then did Jiang Yue relax, though she still looked concerned.

“That’s a relief, but Uncle Cheng, you must take good care of yourself. Injuries to tendons and bones take a hundred days to heal.”

The elderly man on the bed smiled kindly and replied, “Xiao Yue, just seeing you makes me feel much better. Over the years, Cheng Jun has wronged you. I want to apologize.”

Jiang Yue shook her head. “Uncle Cheng, Cheng Jun has already explained to me. He left without a word to protect me. I now understand the tremendous pressure you were all under at that time. I don’t blame him.”

Cheng Jun put his arm around Jiang Yue’s shoulder, reassuring her, “Yueyue, from now on, everything will be fine. I won’t leave you again.”

Jiang Yue cried, biting her lip as she nodded.

The old man continued, “But Yueyue, you have a betrothal now, including your parents…”

“Uncle Cheng, I can cancel that marriage at any time. I’ve been waiting for Jun all these years.”

“My parents don’t mind either. They never cared about Chu Jianghe. They only agreed because they saw how good he was to me and that he came to our home.”

My heart ached deeply.

I don’t know why, but even in death, I still felt that suffocating pain.

I wanted to escape, unwilling to witness their happiness—but I couldn’t. My soul seemed compelled to follow Jiang Yue.

Heaven has been so unfair to me—even after death, this woman continues to torment me.

After chatting for a while longer, Cheng Jun led Jiang Yue out of the room and asked, “Yueyue, you said on the phone you were at the police station. Did something happen?”

Jiang Yue shook her head, tenderly straightening Cheng Jun’s shirt collar.

This scene pierced my eyes once again.

Had she ever treated me with such care all these years?

Forget it. She never had me in her heart. Why was I here indulging in self-delusion?

She said gently, “I’m fine. The police told me Chu Jianghe died and asked me to identify the body.”

“What? He… he really died?” Cheng Jun’s surprise was evident.

But a man knows a man—I clearly saw a flicker of joy in his eyes.

Jiang Yue sneered, “He won’t die. That wasn’t him at all.”

“The police asked you to identify the body. How could it not be him?”

“No. I know him. This is just his trick. Don’t pay it any mind. Leave him be for a couple of days, and he’ll come back running.”

Watching Jiang Yue’s disdainful expression, I felt a profound sadness.

Thank goodness I’m already dead—no longer needing to grovel before her.

She doesn’t care whether I live or die. Even if it were confirmed to be me, she’d probably just smile and say, “Good.”

***

Jiang Yue paused, then continued, “Besides, even if he really died, so what?”

Her voice was cold and devoid of any emotion.

That day, she spent the entire afternoon in Cheng Jun’s father’s hospital room, completely indifferent to my corpse still lying in the morgue.

At night, she even had the household help prepare chicken soup and bring it to the room.

It was only after late into the night that she returned home.

“Aunt Liu, has Chu Jianghe come back yet?” Seeing the cleaning maid, Jiang Yue asked casually.

“No,” Aunt Liu replied promptly.

Her expression was somewhat complicated.

After sitting alone in the room for a while, Jiang Yue went to the spare room where I had once lived.

She paced around the room, looking at the cheap toiletries I had used—the razor blades costing only ten yuan each.

I don’t know what she felt at that moment—perhaps nothing at all.

She opened the drawer of the bedside cabinet. The small items that had been there before were gone—thrown away on her orders.

Now, staring at the empty drawer, she frowned.

Maybe it was then that she truly realized I was gone.

Inside the drawer were some report cards from my childhood.

She had never cared about these things—unaware that I had also been the “model child” other parents spoke of.

I had a great talent for painting since I was young and was admitted to the Qingcheng Academy of Fine Arts—she didn’t know this.

I was not foolish; I just loved her.

To put it plainly, I was utterly consumed by love.

When Jiang Yue pulled out those report cards, she seemed surprised, carefully examining each one.

Beneath them were several of my medical reports.

Since last October, I had been intermittently undergoing hospital checkups.

At first, I hadn’t told her. Later, when it became clear there was no hope, I confided in her.

But she never cared. She thought I was deceiving her, trying to manipulate her sympathy.

Now, seeing these test results, her hands trembled.

She stood there, stunned, utterly frozen.